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1903 





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^^^^ 







ROBERT 





DICK & HTZGERALD, Publishers, 
NEW YORK. 



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I 



DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 18 Ann St., N. Y 



ROBERT EMMET 



THE MARTYR OF IRISH LIBERTY 



A Historical Drama in Three Acts 
By JAMES PILGRIM 

REVISED BY 

CHARLES TOWNSEND 

Author of ''Darkey Wood Dealer," ''Man from Maine/' "Shaun 
Aroon," 'Woven Web," "Golden Gulch,'* "Miss Mad- 
cap,'' "Under a Cloud," "Uncle Tom's Cabin." 



Copyright, 1903, by Dick & Fitzgerald 



'«^ 



NEW YORK 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers 

18 Ann Street 



THi^ L L ;->*•; Y OF f 
CONGRESS. ^ 

Ty.o Copies ReceivtfC \ 



MAR 2 1903 

Copyrignt tnify \ 

^ xj<c. No. I y5/^-i °r 







ROBERT EMMET. 



Note. — The acting rights of this version of ''Robert Emmet'* 
are expressly reserved by the Publishers. Theatrical managers 
wishing to produce it should apply to the Publishers. Amateur 
representation may be made without such application, and with- 
out charge. 



CHARACTERS* 



Robert Emmet (the Irish Patriot). 

Darby O'Gaff (a Sprig of the Emerald Isle). 

O'Leary (an old Soldier). 

DowDALL (Friend to Emmet). 

Kernan (a Traitor). 

Sergeant Topfall. 

Corporal Thomas. 

Lord Norbury ^ 

Barqn fjEORGE^, >.( the Judges).. , 

Bap.6n 'Daly- - Si : " 

Mar^a (Emma's Wife). ^^ 

Judy O'Dougherty. ^ 

' • Peasaiafs'; Sol'^V^rs,* Colleagues of Emmet's, Constables, Jury, 

.^ :.^t^;:: :'-".• •■'^ '■■■-' ^' "- '- 

Time of Representation. — About two hours. 

Note. — The original Drama required twelve scenes, some of 
which were entirely too elaborate to admit of ordinary repre- 
sentation. 

This revision calls for only four scenes, two exteriors and two 
interiors, all within the resources of an ordinary stage. 



Robert Emmet 



COSTUMES. 

Emmet. First Dress. — Green, double-breasted body, patriot 
club coat, gilt buttons, collar and cuffs embroidered with small 
scrolls of shamrock in gold ; green undress cap ; black pantaloons 
and Hessian boots ; light brown head of hair ; white cravat, roque- 
laure; long overcoat and black ''slouch" hat for first act. Sec- 
ond Dress. — Blue coat, gilt buttons; buff, double-breasted vest; 
black pantaloons ; Hessian boots ; white cravat ; yeoman crowned 
hat. 

Darby. Gray frieze, long-tailed coat, white metal buttons ; 
calf-skin waist-coat; sheep-skin breeches; gray stockings; red 
cravat ; black high bow shoes, and brass buckles ; black yeoman 
hat. 

ToPFALL. Red double-breasted coat, blue turn backs, gold 
lace ; chevrons ; white kerseymere breeches ; long black gaiters, 
with white buttons ; white buck sword-belt, and curved sword ; 
crimson sash ; gold epaulet ; yeoman crowned shako, trimmed 
with gold lace; red and white long straight feather; black shoes. 

DowDALL. First Dress. — Brown body coat, gilt buttons ; white 
double-breasted vest ; white cravat ; gray pantaloons ; Hessian 
boots. Second Dress. — Green double-breasted body coat, same 
as Emmet; gray pantaloons; Hessian boots; green undress cap; 
white cravat ; brown head of hair ; yeoman crowned hat. 

Kernan. Coat same as Dowdall ; buckskin pantaloons ; top 
boots, the top very deep, of a dark drab color, and worn low down 
upon the calf; roquelaure; dark wig; bill-crowned hat; white 
cravat. 

O'Leary. White flannel undress military jacket; red vest; 
white corduroy breeches ; black stockings ; short white gaiters ; 
black shoes ; yeoman crowned hat ; blue birdseye handkerchief. 

Lord Norbury. First Dress. — Long cape overcoat, hat, gloves, 
top boots, riding whip. Second Dress. — Black cloth body coat, 
vest, and breeches ; black silk stockings ; black shoes, and small 
silver buckles ; wdiite cravat ; long-flapped, white, full-curled, 
judge's wig; round black silk patch on crown of wig; scarlet robe, 
trimmed with ermine ; black skull-cap for sentence. 

Baron George. Same as Norbury ; no black cap. 

Baron Daly. Same as Baron George. 

Corporal Thomas. Same as Topfall, only trimmed with wors- 
ted lace; white buck cross-belts; cartridge-box; white worsted 
chevrons ; cap trimmed with white worsted lace. 

Soldiers. Same as Corporal Thomas. 

Irish Peasants. Green baize coat; striped vest; corduroy 



4 Robert Emmet 

breeches ; gray stockings ; black shoes ; yellow neckerchief ; coun- 
tryman's hat. 

Maria, First Dress. — Dark blue satin dress; black shoes. 
Second Dress (Act III). — Black satin dress. 

Judy. Sky-blue petticoat, flowered ; country girl's tuck-up 
gown ; red stockings ; black shoes ; small-crowned cap ; gipsy hat, 
tied under the chin. 

Peasant Girls. Various colored peasant dresses ; gipsy hats. 

Note. — These costumes may be greatly simplified. The list is 
given according to the original dressing of the characters, and as 
a matter of historical accuracy. 



PROPERTIES* 



Act I. — Pipes (clay) and tobacco; cudgel for Darby; whiskey 
in flask ; glasses or cups ; walking-stick for Emmet ; drums to 
sound ; guns, etc., for soldiers ; letter ; rope ; tray with bottles, 
bread, meat; gun to fire — sure Hre. 

Act II. — Iron pot in fireplace; petticoat, cloak, bonnet and cap; 
glasses, jug, bowl, spoon, pan of flour, all on table; letter; letter 
for Darby ; pipe and tobacco ; light in fireplace ; cross for Em- 
met ; long rope. Scene III. — Lighted candles on table, also pens, 
ink and paper ; letter for Darby ; guns ; swords ; guns to fire — 
sure Hre ; green flag for Judy. 

Act III. — Guns, etc., for Soldiers ; staffs for Constables ; 
papers, pens, ink, etc., at Judge's table; box for Prisoner — a low 
railing. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS* 

R. means right-hand of a performer facing the audience ; L., left 
hand ; c.^ centre of stage ; r. c, right centre ; l. c, left centre ; 
u., up stage to the rear; d.^ down toward the footlights; e., en- 
trance; u. E., upper entrance; r. e., right entrance; l. e,, left 
entrance; G. i, 2, 3, etc., first, second, third, etc., groove. 



ROBERT EMMET. 

ACT I. 

SCENE. — Landscape in fifth grooves. Wooden table and stools 
R. c. Lights all on. Time, afternoon. 

DISCOVER O'Leary and Kernan seated at table, smoking clay 
pipes. 

Kernan. Business seems to be rather quiet these days, Mr. 
O'Leary. 

O'Leary. Quiet, is it? Faith, Mr. Kernan, ye niver spake a 
truer word. Quiet? It's dead as a grave, worse luck. 

Ker. Poor old Ireland ! 

O'Leary. Ye may well say that. 

Ker. Tyranny will destroy any land if it goes on unchecked. 

O'Leary. Right ye are, Mr. Kernan. I've lived here, man and 
boy, nearly seventy years, and I've seen this once happy and pros- 
perous vale go down, down into the depths of sorrow and poverty. 

Ker. There is little happiness here now. 

O'Leary. True; but I mind in my boyhood that when the day's 
work was done the people would gather on the green and pass 
the evening with songs, dancing, and sometimes a bit of a shindy 
to kape things lively. Ireland did not object greatly to English 
rule in those days, for we did not feel the mailed hand. Then we 
were treated like men, not like savages. 

Ker. There has been a great change. 

O'Leary {strikes table). Change! They've made a wilder- 
ness of the land in their cursed greed and overbearing pride ! 

Ker. Hush ! Be careful. 

O'Leary. Ah, yes ! One niver knows when there may be spies 
and traitors about. 

Ker. Mr. O'Leary! 

O'Leary. Eh? Why man, ye don't suppose I meant you? I'd 
as soon doubt Robert Emmet himself. 

Ker. {aside). Robert Emmet! Curse him! {Aloud.) I 
know you meant nothing. But, you know, I must be doubly cau- 



6 Robert Emmet 

tious. The English tyrants have faith in me, and thus I am able 
to learn their plans. Had I been selected for the leader instead 
of young Emmet 

O'Leary. Ah, come now ! Ye don't claim to be his equal, I 
hope? 

Ker. I ? Oh no ; of course not, of course not. Hasn't he 
always bested me in everything — from our schooldays down to 
the leadership in the coming rebellion? 

O'Leary. That is nothing to grieve over. Sure, he is the best 
man in Ireland to-day. 

Ker. That may be, though I'm no stick, and you are a good 
man, too. 

O'Leary. I was in my young days; but I'm too old for action 
now — at least, as a leader. 

Darby sings off R. u. e. 

Ker. Hello! Here comes a merry blade, judging by his 
voice. 

O'Leary {looks l.). A stranger. We must be cautious. 

Ker. (looks l., aside). Confound him! It's that infernal 
Darby. I hope he won't know me. (Rises. To O'Leary). Well, 
I must be off. (Starts toward R. u. e.) 

ENTER Darby, r. u. e. He is singing, but stops short on meet- 
ing Kernan. They stare at each other a moment, then Ker- 
NAN exits, R. u. E. 

Darby (looking after him). Now, where in the divil's domain 
have I seen that mug before? Ye naden't mind lookin' back, 
mister, unless ye want to come back. An' av ye do, I'm yer man 
here, there, or anywhere. 

O'Leary. What's the matter, friend? 

Darby. Well, this : Ye have a pleasant restin'-place outdoors 
here, an' I've a mind to stop a bit, only I'd hate to breathe the 
air where the likes o' that fellow is. 

O'Leary. Do you know him ? 

Darby. Not for sure. He looks, though, like a dirthy in- 
former I wance knew. 

O'Leary. You are mistaken this time, I'm sure, for Kernan is 
all right. 

Darby. He may be, though I wouldn't trust him as far as I 
could toss a cow by the tail. 

O'Leary (strikes table). I say he's all right! 

Darby (same business). I'm glad ye think so. Is your name 
O'Leary? 



Robert Emmet 7 

O'Leary (angrily). That's my name, sir. Have you anything 
to say against it? 

Darby. Divil a word, man alive ; so don't lose your temper. 
My name is Darby O'Gaff, an Irishman bred and born ; and 
what's more, I don't care a damn who knows it. 

O'Leary. I have known many who professed the same prin- 
ciple, but regret to say, for the benefit of our country, how dif- 
ferently they have acted for its welfare. 

Darby. Bad luck to the likes of them. Well, it's an old say- 
ing and a true one, "There is always black sheep to be found in 
a flock;" and it's myself that would wish no better sport (shak- 
ing his stick) than to slader the conscious out of them; and by 
my soul, I'm the boy that would do it within an inch of their lives. 

O'Leary. You speak like a man after my own heart ; yet I 
have paid dearly for my experience. Irishmen are too often led 
astray by placing confidence in strangers. 

Darby. Faith, that's true enough ; it's a great failing with 
every Paddy lad, telling the divil too much of his mind ; however, 
I have heard your character, Mr. O'Leary, and have no occasion 
to eat my words, so bring us a noggin of whiskey to sweep the 
cobwebs out of my throat. 

O'Leary. With pleasure. (EXIT r. 2 e.) 

Darby. It's mighty hard, so it is, that a man's obliged to keep 
his tongue between his teeth for fear of some blackguard swal- 
lowing that which don't belong to him. Sure, O'Leary 's a man 
of learning, and understands the ways of the world. (May intro- 
duce song.) 

REENTER O'Leary, r. 2 e., with whiskey — places it on table. 

That's right; a drop of the crater will stir me up like old cheese, 
for it's tired I am intirely. (Drinks.) 

O'Leary. Have you journeyed far to-day? 

Darby. I have that same, on the marrow-bone stage (stamp- 
ing his feet) from Dunlary through Dublin. 

O'Leary. Indeed! What is the news in the great city? 

Darby. The news is it? Faith, there's all sorts of it. The 
redcoats are strutting about, and don't seem over easy about the 
afYairs of the nation, and the people look at them wid a nod and 
a wink, which plainly shows that the Irish blood is in commotion 
and they will soon have to whistle for their taxes. 

O'Leary. Would to Heaven the hour had arrived. Old as I 
am, I'd grasp a sword in the cause of freedom. 

Darby. More power to ye. (Grasping his hand.) May ye 
never die till the green banner waves in the breeze on Dublin 



8 Robert Emmet 

Castle, and the boys of the sod knock spots out of the British 
Lion, and be d — d to him. 

O'Leary. Amen. But the sons of the Emerald Isle will have 
to drink deep of blood before she can rise up in her ancient glory. 

Darby. To the divil I pitch the glory — it's justice we want, 
and justice we will have. I've made up my mind to pay no more 
taxes ; and may I never own another bottle of whiskey if I ever 
turn in another pennypiece. 

ENTER Emmet, disguised as an old man. Uses cane, and is 

tremulous in speech. 

Emmet. Who's that talking about paying taxes? 

Darby. I said I'll pay no more. 

Emmet. You're a fool, young man. 

Darby (rises). And you're a 

Emmet. Well? 

Darby. A lucky man. 

Emmet. In what way? 

Darby. Because if you were a young man I'd wear this club 
out over your head. 

Emmet. No, you wouldn't. 

Darby. Why not? 

Emmet. Because I wouldn't let you. 

Darby. Think o' that, now ! Why, ye ould dodder, I cud toss 
ye in a blanket th' best day ye ever saw. 

Emmet. I can put you on your back this day. 

Darby. Go wan wid ye. 

Emmet. Try a fall? 

Darby. Why, I'd break ye into bits. Not I. 

Emmet. You're a coward. 

Darby. What ! Come on wid ye. Order yer coffin. Send 
fer th' Keeners. Th' banshee is wailin'. 

O'Leary. Let the old man alone. 

Darby. Niver. He called me a coward. He wants a fall, an' 
begorry he'll get it. 

Emmet. We'll see about that. 

Darby. Catch yer holt. (They zvrestle, and Darby is in- 
stantly thrown.) 

O'Leary. Ho, ho, ho ! There's life in the old man. 

Darby. Ah ! but I slipped. 

Emmet. Try another? 

Darby. All right — best two out o' three. (They wrestle again^ 
and Darby is thrown quicker and harder than before.) 

O'Leary. Are ye hurted? 

Darby (sitting up). Oh, no. Me back is bruck, me head is 



Robert Emmet 9 

mashed an' me wind is knocked out, but I'm not hurt. (Emmet 
and O'Leary help him up.) Who th' divil are ye, anyhow? 

Emmet. Whisper! (Whispers to each.) 

O'Leary (shaking his hand). I'm honored, sir. 

Darby. I might 'a known it, th' way ye stud me on me head. 
Do it agin an' show me how. 

Emmet (natnral tone). Another time. 

O'Leary. And what brings ye here, master? 

Emmet. Dowdall is a prisoner. 

O'Leary. Dowdall? 

Emmet. Alas, yes! The brave lad w^as taken early this morn- 
ing, and is being conveyed to Dublin for trial. For trial? No — 
a mockery, a travesty of justice. You know what it means. 

O'Leary. Yes. A short shift and a long rope, poor lad. 
That's the kind of justice England has given us for years. 

Emmet. That fate shall not be his. He must be rescued. 

O'Leary. Where? 

Emmet. Here. 

Darby (^whirling stick). Hurroo ! I'll do it alone. 

Emmet. Easy, lad. That has ever been our chief failing — 
this hurry, hurry, hurry. 

Darby. Well, I was born late on th' last day iv December, an' 
I had to hurry up or I'd niver been born at all. 

O'Leary. What shall we do? 

Emmet. They will bring him in charge of a small guard — 
not more than half a dozen soldiers. They will probably stop 
here for rest and refreshment. Call in some of the boys, and at 
the proper moment seize their guns, release Dowdall, and bolt 
for it. I'd stay if I could, but I have an important engagement. 
So I'll trust this matter to you. 

Darby. Thank ye kindly. There'll be some brucken heads 
this day. 

Emmet (down l.). Be cautious, now. If possible, I'll return 
before the time. If not, see that Dowdall is liberated, but don't 
risk your own lives. (EXIT l. i e.) 

O'Leary. That's sound advice. 

Darby. I don't care for advice, so long as me stick is sound. 

O'Leary. Sound or not, ye mustn't be in too big a hurry to 
use it, though. 

Darby. Is that so? Well, when did an Irish lad ever see 
an English soldier an' not be in a hurry for a crack at his ugly 
mug? 

O'Leary. That's all right, only ye must wait this time until 
I give ye the word. 

Darby. Shure, I'll wait forever, so long as ye are quick about 
it. (Shouts and drumming off r. u. e. Low at first, then louder.) 



JO Robert Emmet 

Hello! Begorry, they're comin' now. (Looks R.) Hooroo for 
trouble ! ( Whirls stick. ) 

O'Leary (grabs him by the collar). None o' that just yet. 
(Hurried music. Men and women hurry across from R. to l., 
coming forward in great fear.) What's the matter with ye all, 
that your legs are running away with your bodies so fast? 

All. The soldiers are coming ! 

Darby. Bad luck to them, let them come ; there's enough of 
us to dust their jackets, anyhow. The more we submit to the 
blackguards the more we may. 

O'Leary. Go into the house, friends. I'm an old soldier who 
for years witnessed the cruelty of the men we have to deal with 
in a foreign land. 

Darby. Divil a step I'll move. (Flourishing stick.) Here's 
a piece of blackthorn that belonged to my grandfather before he 
was born, and I'll go bail that I'll slader the skulls of any man 
of them who dares to say black is the white of my eye. 

O'Leary. Take my advice — I beg that you will all go into the 
house. (Military march, softly.) 

All. Yes, yes, let's go into the house ! 

Darby. Well, well, I wouldn't for the world offend you, Mr. 
O'Leary; but remember, if the bog-trotters come any of their 
nonsense. Darby O'Gaff's at your elbow. (EXEUNT peasants 
r. 2 E. Aside.) Bedad, but I'd like to have a whack at some of 
them, anyhow ! (EXIT. O'Leary sits at table. March, loud, 
r. 2 e.) 

ENTER Sergeant Topfall, with soldiers r. u. e., with Dowdall 
a prisoner, his arms pinioned behind him. Comes down l. 

Serg. Halt, men — dismiss. (Soldiers stack guns, come down, 
sit at table. To O'Leary.) Well, landlord, you're taking it easy; 
however, there's nothing like it when you can do it on the square. 
We have had a tolerable stiff march ; your Irish miles are plagued 
long ones, and I was glad to see the smoke curling through the 
trees from your tavern. You don't appear over courteous in wel- 
coming us. Are you a friend or foe? 

O'Leary (rising). A friend always to the oppressed, and a foe 
to the oppressor. 

Serg. Come, come, mind what you say ; my authority is not 
to be trifled with. When I ask a question as a sergeant in the 
king's service I demand a direct answer. Are you a loyal sub- 
ject — a friend to your country? 

O'Leary. Look at this scar on my forehead. I received it in 
fighting for my country. 

Serg. Be direct in your replies, or it may be worse for you ! 



Robert Emmet Jj 

O'Leary. Am I to be insulted without cause at the threshold 
of my own door? My gray hairs should at least command some 
respect, even from British soldiers ! 

Darby (peeping in r. 2 e.). The divil roast the lot of them, 
and it's myself that would like to be the cook. By St. Patrick, 
I'd baste them well with the dripping ! 

Serg. Well, I don't want to annoy you; but we are hungry, 
and must have something to eat. (To soldiers.) Come, boys, 
let's see what the old man's larder contains. (Advancing to R.) 

O'Leary (stopping him). Stop, friend. That cottage (point- 
ing off R.) I inherited from my good old father, and the land 
we now stand on was his birthright, and, old as I am, I defy you 
or any other man entering its door without my consent ! 

Serg. Oh, very well. I see you want me to make use of my 
authority. You may be a bold fellow^ 

O'Leary. I am an honest man. 

Serg. Then why refuse to give hungry men something to eat? 

Darby (at r. 2 e.). You lie, you ghost of a lobster ! An Irish- 
man never denies the bite and the sup either to friend or enemy. 
The old man only wants that which costs nothing — civility — and, 
by my soul, I'll batter your skull if you don't give it to him! 
(EXIT.) 

Serg. Insult to the king's troops ! Men, go and bring that 
fellow here ! 

O'Leary (interposing). No, no. He's but a poor country boy, 
and don't comprehend the meaning of our conversation. Such 
as my poor cottage affords is freely at your service. Sit down, 
and I will bring you some refreshments. 

Serg. Then quick, march; Mr. Landlord, I have no desire 
to have a row, but eating is the word. (EXIT O'Leary, r.) We 
must look after our stomachs. 

Darby (at r., aside). I'll give you the fill of your stomachs 
before I'm done with you, and something on your backs in the 
bargain. 

Serg. (takes letter from his belt — glancing over it). There's 
treason in every word of this letter, and signed Robert Emmet. 
(To DowDALL.) Can you tell me, prisoner, who this Robert Em- 
met is? 

Dow. I can. 

Serg. Well ? 

Dow. Well, what? 

Serg. Why don't you tell me? 

Dow. I haven't been asked. 

Serg. I ask you now. What is this Robert Emmet? 

Dow. A man. 



12 Robert Emmet 

Serg. Well, I didn't imagine that he was a woman. I dis- 
tinctly asked you, who is he? 

Dow. An Irishman ! 

Serg. Say rather a traitor, who has been scattering the seeds 
of rebellion through the country. 

Dow. He is no traitor, sir. I know him to be a just and 
honorable man, that loves his native soil — a true patriot, who has 
ventured his all to rescue a groaning people from the base Eng- 
lish aristocracy ! 

Darby (at r., aside). Long life to ye, my bold fellow. The 
divil may hoist me if I don't rescue you from them blackguards, 
anyhow ! 

Serg. I don't know anything about the aristocracy. Soldiers 
never pretend to know anything but the orders issued by our su- 
perior officers. 

REENTER O'Leary with tray, bottles, bread and meat. Places 

them on table. 

O'Leary. There is the best my humble roof can afford. Shall 
I give something to your prisoner? 

Serg. Don't trouble yourself. {Eating with soldiers.) Mr. 
Landlord, self-preservation is the first law of nature ; after we 
are done will be time enough. The prisoner has given me noth- 
ing but saucy answers since he has been in my charge ; one good 
turn deserves another. 

Darby {at r., aside). That's true; one good turn deserves 
another, and by the hole in my coat, I'll do one for you before 
you're aware of it ! 

O'Leary. This may be the English way of treating the un- 
fortunate; but, damn me 

ENTER Darby, r. 2 e. 

Darby {aside). Easy — I'll show the spalpeens a trick! 

O'Leary {pushing Darby away). I will speak my mind, come 
what may. It's against the laws of nature and humanity for men 
who profess to be Christians to eat and drink, and not give a 
mouthful to a fellow-creature, although a prisoner. The food is 
mine, and was purchased by honest industry, and I insist the 
prisoner partakes of a share. {During the above Darby beckons 
on the peasantry, who, by his instructions, take possession of the 
soldiers' guns and release Dowdall.) 

Serg. Oh, if you're inclined to bluster, I must put a stopper 
on your mouth ; don't go for to think that I'll put up with any 
nonsense. {Rising. ) Men, seize that old rascal ! 



Robert Emmet J3 

Darby. On to them, boys. Old Ireland forever! (Music.) 
Soldiers start up, Sergeant seizes O'Leary, Darby knocks him 
down, soldiers rush up for guns, are met by Dowdall and peas- 
ants, fight. Darby knocks one down after the other, till soldiers 
are overpowered and guarded by peasants with guns. 

Darby. How's that for an Irish trick? 

ENTER Lord Norbury, r. u. e. 

NoRBURY. What is the meaning of this outrage? 

Darby. Do ye feel better now ? 

NoRBURY. Release those men at once. 

O'Leary. And who are you that presumes to give orders 
here? 

NoRBURY. I am Lord Norbury, fellow. 

Darby. Norbury? Boys, it's the brutal judge who has sent 
so many brave lads to death. 

Norbury. You ruffian ! Do you dare speak thus ? By heaven, 
I'll 

Darby. Don't spake o' heaven, ye monster, for it's a place ye'U 
niver see. By the great Eternal, I'm goin' to send ye right down 
to th' divil himself ! {Is down l. a little, Norbury being c. Grabs 
a gun and fires at Norbury. As he does so, Emmet, who has 
rushed on l. i e., pushes up the gun so that Darby misses.) 

Darby. Oh, why did ye interfere? 

Emmet. Because the time has not yet come. 

Norbury. You saved my life, sir. 

Emmet. Well? 

Norbury. Tell me your name, that I may give you a suitable 
reward. 

Emmet. My name? {Bitterly.) My name is that of the man 
whom you and your fellow-savages are hunting down. My name 
{throws off disguise) is Robert Emmet! {Cheers, music.) 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT 11. 

SCEH^.— Kitchen in Emmet's house in fourth grooves. Fire- 
place r., over which an iron pot is swung. Petticoat, cloak, 
bonnet and cap hanging on nail in Hat. Table h., on which 
are glasses, a jug, bowl, spoon, pan of flour and rolling-pin. 
Doors c, R. and l. 



J4 Robert Emmet 

ENTER Maria, c, with letter. 

Maria. Yes, dear Robert, whatever your fate, I will share it 
with you. (Reads. ''Dearest love, business of an impressing nature 
calls me hence; hut to-morrozv, as there is truth in constancy^ 
I will be with you.) Alas! my heart tells me he is engaged in 
some desperate struggle ; his countenance reveals to me that his 
soul is fraught with some great deed. Last night I thought I 
heard him shouting freedom through the capital to weeping Ire- 
land ; then came a buzz of mingling sounds with the clash of 
arms ; the green banner floated in the breeze ; ten thousand 
tongues proclaimed aloud, ''Robert Emmet, the champion ! Ire- 
land is free!" My heart beat with radiant hope. I knelt in 
prayer. But the bright vision vanished ; the scene was changed ; 
a river of blood appeared ; crimsoned waves lashed and foamed, 
and there upon the gory tide I saw a form as if mangled by sav- 
age beasts! 'Twas Emmet! (Buries her face in her hands.) 

ENTER Judy, running, c. 

Judy (joyfully). Och, mistress dear, he's come, he's come! 
May he live forever, for the sake of my blessed old mother, for 
he's going to marry the daughter, and that's myself ! 

Maria. Who mean you? 

Judy. Faith, it's my own dear darling. Darby O'Gaff. Sure, 
I'll never forget the day when your father's carriage drove along, 
and saved poor Darby and myself from the soldiers, and took me 
into your service for nothing at all, at all, and made me a lady's 
maid. 

Maria. Invite your friend in, Judy, and make him welcome. 

Judy. Faith, and he's rubbing his brogues at the door, like a 
real gentleman. (Calling.) Come in, Darby, jewel. (Goes up.) 

ENTER Darby, with a letter, c. 

Darby (bowing awkwardly). Beg your pardon, ma'am; I'm 
here, ma'am ; Judy called me, ma'am. 

Maria. I requested her to do so. 

Darby. Thank'ee, ma'am ; may the blessings of good living 
be wid ye, and bad times never come within smelling distance 
of your ladyship. If you please, here's a small trifle of a letter 
for your good-looking self. (Bozving, and gives letter.) 

Maria. Ah! 'tis from Emmet (Opens letter; reads: ''I 
shall be home to-day. Await my coming. Say nothing to any 
one.'') Some mystery. (To Darby.) When did you see Mr. 
Emmet ? 



Robert Emmet tS 

Darby. About a half an hour ago, ma'am. ''Darby," said he, 
^'you're a boy that I can trust; take this letter to my lady, and 
lose no time in delivering it." Not another word did I hear him 
spake, for I ran all the way here like a dog wid a tin can tied to 
him. Sure, I ran so fast me shadow wor half a mile behind 
me all th' way, an' I could hardly kape up wid me own feet. 

Maria (laughing). Ah, Darby! Give him some refreshments 
after that, Judy. (EXITS l.) 

Darby (l. h.^ leering at Judy). Och, is it your darling self 
that I see in the corner, wid your head as big as a bushel of po- 
tatoes, and your mouth swimming wid tears of joy? 

Judy (r. h.^ slowly advancing). It's little I expected to see the 
likes of ye this blessed morning, wid the hair of your head stick- 
ing up like a full-grow^n field of carrots ! 

Darby (grinning). Judy, you're the divil, so you are! Ah! 
come here, and I'll smother ye. (Embraces and kisses her.) 
Och, what elegant amusement ! Judy, if iver I die, I've a notion 
dis is the way I'd like to go off. (Embracing and kissing her.) 

Judy. Sure, Darby, you haven't worked in the clover fields for 
nothing. 

Darby. No, by St. Patrick! I'd wish you to smother me in it. 

Judy. You're a broth of a boy. Darby. But what have you 
been doing so long, that I've not seen you at all, at all? 

Darby. What have I been doing? Faith, that would bother 
you entirely, if you knew it. Upon my soul, I hardly know my- 
self. I'm a kind of a walking telegraph, that explains matters 
to the friends of old Ireland, and puts them on their guard by 
telling them things that I don't know anything about myself. So 
if you understand the business, you're a much better scholar than 
I took you to be. 

Judy. Sure, it's all botheration from bottom to top. But 
what's the master stopping away from home for? 

Darby. Judy, take a fool's advice : never trouble yourself 
about things that don't belong to ye. It's hungry I am. 

Judy. Och, you needing to be so close all of a sudden. Sure, 
you wouldn't be so particular over a steaming hot jug of whiskey 
punch if I was holding it under your nose. 

Darby (grinning) . Judy, you soul, you're a Christian. 

Judy. Or a lump of cold pudding wouldn't be after wadding 
your mouth up. 

Darby. Oh, go along out of that. 

Judy (coaxing). Sure, I have the pair of them in the kitchen, 
Darby dear, and the three-legged stool close to the fire. 

Darby. Oh, musha, hear that! Cold pudding, hot whiskey, 
and a three-legged stool close to the fire ! And do you mean to 
tell me that you have got them all for me? 



16 Robett Emmet 

Judy. Yes, Darby dear. 

Darby. Erin-go-Bragh ! take me out till I wash me face and 
I'll destroy the whole o' thim. 
Judy. This way, Darby, dear. (EXEUNT Judy and Darby, 

ENTER Emmet and Maria, c. 

Maria. I knew it, Robert, I knew it all. You are connected 
with the rebellion. Do not let false hope lead you to destruction. 
Remember but a few short years ago the innocent blood that was 
spilled, and the cruelties of those in power. Should the enter- 
prise fail, and you fall into the hands of the enemy, they would 
award thee death. 

Emmet (with energy.) Better die in freedom's cause than live 
a tyrant's slave. 

Maria. Robert, let us fly from the land, and seek for peace 
elsewhere. There is a clime yet new in song, a land where all are 
free ; be that our adopted home. Let us cross the seas, and bid 
adieu to the sweet isle of our childhood, and find beneath the 
eagle's wings a refuge unstained by oppression's foot, where 
bright, glorious equality is every true man's boon. 

Emmet. What! fly my country! fly from the suffering people 
I have sworn to defend! leave them a prey to the insatiate jaws 
of bloodthirsty tyranny ! No, not for a kingdom would I taint 
the honor that should guide me untarnished to my death ! 

Maria. Robert, forgive me ; woman's weakness prompted my 
tongue. I am an Irishman's daughter, and will aid you if possi- 
ble in the cause you have espoused. 

Emmet (embracing her). My own dear wife, how happy could 
I live with you even in a cottage, were my country but free to 
hear the ancient harp again as in the days of yore, when sceptred 
Brian in his Gothic hall felt inspiration from its thrilling sounds. 
Nay, weep not ; this night we rise, and through the streets of Dub- 
lin display the proud banner of our country. 

Maria. Great heaven ! this night, Robert ! Should you fail, 
your life will be sacrificed ! 

Emmet. Then we shall meet in heaven. Come, come, no 
tears ; my heart tells me all will be well ; your husband will return 
in triumph. 

Maria. Yes, yes, and hear a thousand tongues proclaim you 
the deliverer of our country. Go now, dear Robert ; I'll see you 
through the garden, and when night comes on, and the stars 
shine forth in the arched vault of heaven, I'll lift my voice in 
prayer for you and Ireland's liberty. 

Emmet. Speak not to your father of this night's work. Take 



Robert Emmet 17 

this cross (gives it), and when you hear the shout of liberty and 
the rush of the multitude, press it to your heart; it will be the 
hour of retribution to our enemies, and revenge for Ireland's 
wrongs. (EXEUNT Emmet and Maria, l.) 

ENTER Darby and Judy, r. 

Judy. Now, Darby dear, I'm goin' to be as good as a mother 
to ye. 

Darby. An' I'll be good as two or three fathers to ye, Judy. 

Judy. Ye'U find me a master-hand at makin' a puddin'. Darby. 
(He sits at table. She supplies him with food.) 

Darby. Faith, you are, and I'm the boy that can eat it. 

Judy (pours spirits from jug). Is the punch to your liking? 
(Giving him glass.) 

Darby. Divil a nicer in the wide world. (Drinks.) Och, it's 
so beautiful it runs down my throat before I know that I have 
tasted it. 

Judy. Take the jug. Darby, and ye will get the full of your 
mouth. (Giving him jug.) 

Darby. Upon my soul, Judy, you ought to be a doctor. 

Judy. Why, Darby dear, what do I know about doctoring? 

Darby. You have such a way of serving your patients. You're 
the boy that would never let them die for the want of spirits. 
Such elegant eating and drinking would bring a dead man to life 
again, if he had any respect for his stomach. (Knock without. 
Both start.) Perhaps it's the mistress come back. 

(Irish peasants heard without, ''Darby! Judy!" They enter, c.) 

Darby. Now, boys and girls, let's have a dance. 

{Music. Irish jig by the peasants, Darby and Judy. 
Specialty may be introduced here. 

Knock, c. EXEUNT peasants, r. and l. 

Judy. Aisy, Darby, while I go and see. (Going, returns.) 
Don't be afraid of the puddin', Darby. 

Darby. Divil a fear but I'll have a tightener. 

Judy (going, returns). Don't spare the punch. 

Darby. Punch me if I do. (Knock without, c.) 

Judy. Coming! coming! (Runs off, c.) 

Darby. A better man never breathed than Judy. The milk 
of human kindness is the life, and soul and body of her, and I'll 
not be satisfied till I christen her Mrs. O'Gaff. Och, the family 
we'll have I 



J 8 Robert Emmet 

Judy (without). Sure, you needn't trouble yourself; neither 
master nor mistress are at home. 

Serg. (without). Must do my duty, young woman, and that 
compels me to search the house; so don't oppose my authority. 

Darby. Bad luck to me, if here ain't Mister Authority ! Be- 
dad ! there's mischief brewing. If he should happen to remember 
me I'll be taken to the guard house. 

Judy (without), Och ! you'll have your trouble for your pains, 
if ye won't take a decent body's word for it. 

Serg (without). Strict duty is a soldier's honor. 

Darby. To the divil I'll pitch your duty and honor at the 
same time, bad scran to ye's. What will I do to get out of the 
house? If I am caged I cannot be able to fight wid the boys to- 
night. (Looking round, sees things.) Judy's clothes — begorra ! 
I'll make a feminine gander of myself and deceive the spalpeens ! 
(Takes down clothes, puts them on; takes short pipe of tobacco; 
smokes.) 

Serg. (without.) We invariably make a rule of visiting the 
kitchen. 

Darby. Take care that you don't get monkey's allowance if 
you come any of your nonsense here! (Sits near fire.) 

ENTER Judy, c, followed by Sergeant and two soldiers. 

Judy (as she enters). Faith, now, ye'll find nobody here but 
me brother. 

Darby. Och, murder! Judy! (She comes to him.) It's yer 
mother I am, ye divil ! 

Judy (to Sergeant). Yis, sor, jist as I told ye — there's no- 
body here but me poor ould mother. 

Serg. She doesn't look so very old. 

Judy. Ah ! but she is. She's more than a hundred, and was 
th' youngest o' siventeen, an' she's not well, I'm sorry to say. 

Serg. What's the matter with her? 

Judy. Ah, worse luck! She's deaf an' dumb an' blind, more 
or less, aint ye, dear? 

Darby. I am that. (Puffs pipe.) I've been speechless for 
years. 

Serg. Ho, ho ! That's not bad ! And what is she doing 
here? 

Darby (aside). Smokin', ye dom'd thafe. 

Judy. The poor old thing is doing no harm. 

Darby (aside). But I will be directly. 

Judy. She dropped in merely to give me her blessin'. 

Serg. I see. 

Darby (aside). No ye don't, but ye will directly, or sooner. 



Robert Emmet J 9 

Serg. She gives you her blessing, and you give her your mas- 
ter's food and drink. 

Judy. Sure, you wouldn't have me send the poor old creature 
away without the bite and the sup? 

Serg. Oh, of course not. We will follow the old woman's ex- 
ample, take a bite and a sup — eh, lads? Ha, ha, ha! (Soldiers 
laugJi. ) 

Darby (aside). Bedad ! but I'll make you laugh the wrong 
side of your mouths presently ! 

Serg. Bring out some whiskey, and the best victuals you have 
in the house. 

Darby (rising). Exactly. Give the gentlemen some whiskey, 
Judy; and I'll help ye's to spread the table. 

Serg. Well done, old woman ! Make her stir her stumps. 

Darby (aside). Yes; and I'll stir your stumps before you're 
out of this house. (Judy gets bottle from closet, in Hat, r. h. ; 
Darby brings bread and meat, which they place on table ; soldiers 
eat and drink; Darby explains to Judy that he means to serve 
them out.) 

Serg. Eat away, lads ; it's uncommonly good : the whiskey is 
capital ! 

Darby. You admire the flavor of it? 

Serg. Decidedly ; better I never tasted. 

Darby (aside). I'll give you something tasty by and by. 

Judy (aside). What are you going to do, Darby dear? 

Darby (aside). Pay them the old score for ill-treating one of 
our countrymen the other day. 

Serg. Some more whiskey, young woman ; it's excellent. We 
can't refuse from taking another bumper apiece — eh, lads? 

All. Yes, yes ; another bumper ! 

Darby (aside). Bumpers? If ye don't behave yourselves 
you'll get plumpers from Darby O'Gafif! (Judy brings another 
bottle of whiskey ; Darby goes to closet, in Hat, and brings out 
a rope). 

Serg. (Hlls glasses). Well, lads, here's confusion to all re- 
bellious subjects. (All drink.) Ha, ha, ha! That's a good toast. 

Darby (aside). It will be better when I butter your toast for 
you. 

Serg. (getting tipsy). Come, young woman, you and your 
mother can drink that sentimicnt. 

Judy. Sure, myself nor mother won't drink anything just 
now. 

Serg. (rising, staggers). Well, if you won't drink, give me a 
kiss. (Judy runs to Darby.) 

Darby. Just keep your distance, Mister Puddin'-head, or I'll 
slap you across the jaw. 



20 Robert Emmet 

Serg. Don't give us any of your impudence, old woman ; we 
are lords and masters here. (Staggering.) Come and give me 
a kiss, Molly, or whatever your name is. 

[Music. Advancing, Darby takes up bowl of flour, 
throws it into his face; he staggers against table, sneer- 
ing; Darby very quickly takes rope, throws it over 
Sergeant and soldiers; it being in a loop, draws them 
all onto table; Darby lays on them with stick; Judy 
runs to fire and throws contents of pot over soldiers, 
who shout and struggle. Scene closes. 



SCENE II. — A street in first grooves. Lights half down. 
ENTER DowDALL and O'Leary, r. 

Dow. Everything goes well. 

O'Leary. Yes, thanks to Emmet's thoroughness. 

Dow. He has done wonders in the brief time at his disposal. 
He is certainly a remarkable man. 

O'Leary. He is that, indeed. You owe your escape to him. 

Dow. Yes, and I owe my capture to a vile informer. 

O'Leary. Do you know his name? 

Dow. I do not; but I caught a glimpse of the dog when he 
was not aware of it, and I'll know him if we meet again. 

O'Leary. Well, I hope to be on hand when ye do meet. I 
imagine there'll be something going on. 

Dow. Very likely. I think there'll be one less dirty informer 
in Ireland. 

O'Leary. More power to ye. How goes it in the western 
section? 

Dow. All's well there. I have some valuable papers which 
I shall present at the meeting to-night. And what is the news 
from the east? 

O'Leary. Excellent. All the boys are anxiously awaiting the 
hour for the rising. Every lad's heart is beating with impatience, 
and all are full of confidence. Even I, disappointed as I have 
been, feel that at last the glorious sun of liberty is about to dissi- 
pate the clouds which have enveloped our dear land in murky 
gloom all these weary years. 

Dow. May kind Providence make it so. 

O'Leary. Amen. Well, let's not wait any longer for Darby. 
The young divil is probably in a ruction somewhere — but he's 
sure to land on his feet like a cat. 

Dow. Come on, then {goes l.) ; we'll go to the meeting. 

O'Leary. Agreed. I'm with you. (EXEUNT, l.) 



Robert Emmet 21 



ENTER Sergeant Topfall, r. i e., covered with flour. His 
nose bleeding; rubbing himself, 

Serg. Oh, what a quilting I've got ! I must have been born 
under an unlucky planet. I'm always in some mess or the other, 
and get the worst of it. Just as I thought myself so cozy with 
lots of eating and drinking {rubbing himself), that infernal she 
devil, how she laid it on ! all my comrades bolting off and leav- 
ing me to be pounded by the old woman and gal. Curse me, if 
I don't serve them out for it! I'll give them extra drill for de- 
serting their sergeant. 

ENTER Corporal, l. i e. 

Corp. {seeing Sergeant). Ha, ha, ha! Why, you are in a 
pickle again ! {Laughing heartily. ) Ha, ha, ha ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

Serg. {in passion). What do you mean by this behavior, sir? 
How dare you laugh at your superior officer? 

Corp. Upon my soul, I can't help it, sergeant. Ha, ha, ha! 

Serg. Silence, sir! I won't be laughed at. I'll report you 
to the commanding officer, and he will have you broke. 

Corp. Ha, ha, ha ! Take care that you don't get broke your- 
self. 

Serg. That's an insult. Mind, I predict you lose your stripes. 

Corp. You're a pretty fellow to predict ! Why, the sergeant- 
major said you were the greatest fool in the regiment! 

Serg. Did he, really? And I suppose you're of the same opin- 
ion? 

Corp. Of course I am. You never go out with a file of men 
without getting into trouble. The picket has just. returned to the 
barracks, nearly all crippled, and told the officers of the watch 
that you took them into some kitchen, where two old women 
scalded them and pummelled you 

Serg. Damn that old woman ! It's all true, corporal. I'm the 
most unfortunate devil alive. {Drums beat without.) Ah! that's 
the roll call. Oh, why did I ever come to Ireland? 

EXIT r., followed by Corporal, laughing. 



SCENE III. — Same as Scene I. {Kitchen.) The table is C, 
and on it are lighted candles, pens, ink, papers, etc. 

DISCOVER Emmet seated at head of table, facing audience; 
DowDALL at his right, O'Leary at his left. Several other 
men seated r. and l. 



22 Robert Emmet 

Emmet. Is the door guarded? 

Dow. Yes, sir. 

Emmet. Are all here who were called? 

O'Leary. All but Kernan and Darby. 

Emmet (rises). Fellow-countrymen: You have perused the 
letters from our friends, and understand the plans I have sug- 
gested; but weigh them well in the scales of your better judg- 
ment, and let discretion guide our counsels. The children of '98 
paid dearly for their hasty movements. Then, as a boy, my blood 
rose indignant, and I longed to revenge them ; the scenes of that 
period can never be erased from my memory. The blood-smeared 
soldier hanging up the poor, defenceless peasantry, even in the 
streets of Dublin ; wives lamenting their husbands — children their 
parents. Upon the day the brave Fitzgerald died in his country's 
cause — may every Irishman venerate his name — upon that day, 
boy as I was, I swore to devote my life and fortune to the relief 
of a suffering people ; and therefore I say let us rise up, shake off 
our servitude, and hail the natal day of Irish liberty. 

Dow. Have you decided to attack the Castle? 

Emmet. I have. Fellow-countrymen, to my home I'll return 
no more till our object be accomplished, or I find beneath the 
laurel shades of death a soldier's grave. Is there one in this 
assembly who dreads the approaching contest? The hour fraught 
with a nation's fate — the hour that gives to Ireland liberty and 
fame, or guides us to the silent tomb? Who fears death in his 
country's cause? 

All. None, none ! 

Emmet. Then to-morrow night at nine be prepared ; v/e 
must strike the first blow in the very centre of the capital. In 
the name of Heaven, I charge ye as true men, strike home ! Re- 
member it is for Ireland's rights and liberty. Falter, and the 
Emerald Isle will be a groaning nation, perhaps for ages, under 
the heel of tyranny. 

O'Leary. Our cause is just; we will not fail. As Irishmen, 
we are bound together by oath too terrible to break. (Three 
knocks without, c. d. ; all start.) 

Dow. It's one of our party. 

Emmet (at c. d.). Who is there? 

Ker. (without). A friend. 

Emmet. Your name? 

Ker. Liberty. 

Emmet. Enter. (Throws open door. Kernan enters, comes 
down L. c). 

Dow (sees him). What! You here? (Rises.) 

Ker. (impudently). And why not? 

Dow. O'Leary, he's the one. 



Robert Emmet 23 

O'LeaRY (rising). Are ye sure? 

Dow. I am sure. (All rise.) 

Emmet. What is it, Dowdall? 

Dow. (points to Kernan). He is the traitor — the informer! 

All. Informer ? 

Dow. Yes, the informer — the contemptible wretch who be- 
trayed me. 

Ker. (boldly). You lie! 

Dow. What ! (Seizes Kernan by the throat and hurls him 
to his knees.) Fll choke the life out of your foul body! 

Ker. Help ! help ! 

Emmet (releases him). Easy, Dowdall. (Dowdall goes 
down R.) We must not be hasty. (Three knocks at c. d.) Who 
is there? 

Darby (without). A friend. 

Emmet. Your name? 

Darby. Liberty. 

Emmet. Enter. (Opens door. Darby enters quickly.) 

Darby (sees Kernan). Ah! he's here all right. Read this. 
(Gives note to Emmet.) 

Emmet (glances at note). Thank you, Darby. Now, Kernan, 
how about this accusation? 

Ker. It is false. 

Dow. You damned cur! (Starts for Kernan.) 

Emmet (stopping him). Keep cool, Dowdall. I'll manage this. 
Then (to Kernan) you are not an informer? 

Ker. No, sir. 

Emmet. You did not betray Dowdall? 

Ker. No, sir. 

Emmet. Do you swear to it? 

Ker. (raises right hand). I swear to it. 

Emmet. And you have not betrayed me and the other patriots 
gathered here? 

Ker. I have not. 

Emmet. Do you swear to that? 

Ker. (as before). I swear to that. 

Emmet. Man, man ! Not content with taking bribes from the 
English, with betraying your country, you must needs sell your 
own immortal soul to the arch-enemy himself. Listen. (Reads 
note.) ''To Colonel Brooke: If you would capture Robert Em- 
met and his fellow-conspirators, surround his house to-night and 
you will bag them all. Kernan." (Pause.) This note, to the 
English Commander, is in your handwriting, and is signed by 
you. 

All. Up with him ! up with him ! Death to the traitor. 

Emmet. You hear? What have you to say? 



24 Robert Emmet 

Ker. {kneeling). Mercy! mercy! 

All. No ! no 1 

Darby. I want th' first pull at the rope. 

Dow. No ! Let me strangle him alone. 

Eaimet. Stop, men. (Kernan rises.) He deserves death, 
but he must be fairly tried. Some of you guard him in the next 
room. Later on we will consider his case. 

Dow. ril look after him single-handed. 

Emmet. Very well. Go with him. 

Dow. Come along, you viper. (EXITS zvith Kernan, r.) 

O'Leary. And to think that Ireland could give birth to such 
a man. 

Darby. Ye are mistaken in that. His father was a Dutch- 
man, his mother was a Turk. He was born in a mud scow, and 
raised on skimmin's, bedad ! 

Emmet. Fellow-countrymen: We assemble for the last time 
previous to our great enterprise ; the hour is near that must lead 
us on to victory or death. Let no man pause in the task ; our 
secret work is freedom. {Takes papers from table.) These 
papers contain duplicate copies of our plan of attack which Dow- 
dall and O'Leary have delivered to all our friends. Gentlemen, 
I wish you to peruse them. (Emmet sits. Darby takes papers, 
which he gives to the gentlemen, who peruse them and express 
their opinion to each other. Emmet rises.) You see, gentle- 
men, that the signal will be perfectly understood by all. The at- 
tack will be made at four distinct quarters of the city. Upon 
the first summons we march direct to the Castle and plant the 
ancient banner of our country, which for centuries hath lain 
beneath the feet of the oppressor. My soul expands at the glori- 
ous thought of the green isle soaring like the phoenix from the 
ashes of her thraldom, regenerated in her great and former 
glory. {To O'Leary.) See to Kernan; bring the traitor before 
us. (O'Leary EXITS r.) We must convey the fellow to some 
safe hiding-place until after the attack. 

O'Leary {entering r.) Kernan is not there, Emmet. He has 
murdered Dowdall and escaped. Lads, we are betrayed. 

All. Betrayed ? 

ENTER Kernan, c, followed by soldiers. 

ICer. Surrender ! you are surrounded ; the streets are filled 
with soldiers. 

Emmet. Never surrender! Ireland! Liberty or death! 
{Music.) 

ENTER Darby and Judy with green Hag and shillelah, and crowd 



Robert Emmet 25 

of armed peasants; they descend; knock down Kernan on 
L. ; guns are discharged; six soldiers rush on from R. and 
L. 3 E. ; general battle ; soldiers are defeated. O'Leary gives 
banner to Emmet. 

TABLEAU. 

Soldiers. Soldiers and Soldiers and 

Patriots. Peasants. Peasants. 

Judy. Two Soldiers. 

O'Leary. Patriots. 
DowDALL. Peasant. Emmet {with banner). Darby. 

Two Soldiers {down). Kernan {down). Peasant. 

QUICK DROP, 



ACT IIL 

SCENE I. — A street in Dublin, i G. Enter Darby, l., his hands 
in his pockets, very melancholy. 

Darby. Be my soul, I haven't had such a load of grief in this 
heart of my own this many a long day ; it seems for all the world 
as if it would break through my side, and tear my waistcoat all to 
splinters. Bad luck to my escaping on the 23d of July ; sure, that 
day ought to have been a holiday for poor ould Ireland. Ah, 
musha, musha ! Why the divil wasn't I kilt? Faith, I wish that 
I had a drink of water with a little whiskey in it. Fd drink it 
if it was to choke me, bedad but I would, for Tm low-spirited 
intirely. 

ENTER Judy, r. 

Judy. Och, Darby dear, is that your own self? 

Darby. Faith it is, cushla ; all that's left of me. I have been 
crying the soul bolt out of me, and it is as weak as water gruel 
that I am. 

Judy. Don't be down-hearted, Darby. 

Darby. How can I help it, Judy? The brave Robert Emmet 
is in the court, and the trial is going on ; sure there's been any 
quantity of law for the patriots, but justice is out of the question. 

Judy. Sure, it's a sorry time. Darby; but we must hope for the 
best. 

Darby. I'm sick and tired of hoping; it's like looking at 



26 " Robert Emmet 

nothing in one hand, and then squinting into the other to find 
it. 

Judy. Well, Darby dear, it's no use meeting trouble half way. 
Most of the people think that the master will get clear, and the 
mistress thinks so too. 

Darby (rubbing his hands). If I was only sure of that, I'd 
tear every rag off of my back for joy. 

Judy. Sure you wouldn't do that, Darby. 

Darby (excited). Upon my soul I would. I'd be blind drunk 
to-night if I never was sober again. 

Judy. For shame. Darby. 

Darby. Divil a shame I'd think of it; if Robert Emmet was 
liberated this blessed moment I'd murder you for fun. 

Judy. Don't think of such a thing. 

Darby (excited). I'd do it. By me soul I'd murder the whole 
world, and smother myself afterwards ! 

Judy. Don't be going out of your senses, Darby. I have a 
secret to tell you; when the trouble is over, the master and mis- 
tress are going to America. 

Darby. Then bad luck to me if I don't go too, if I have to 
walk all the way there. 

Judy. That's my way of thinking, Darby. America's the 
country for my money ; and it's myself that has saved up nine 
pounds and three quarters all in gold. 

Darby. Nine pounds and three quarters all in gold — my for- 
tune's made. Judy, we'll go to America and buy a farm. You 
can dig potatoes, and I can milk the cows. We will have thou- 
sands of pigs and roosters. Are you quite sure that you have got 
all that money? 

Judy. As sure as the nose on your face. 

Darby (feeling his nose). All right! I'll go home and burn 
the cabin ; I won't sleep in it another night. 

Judy. No, Darby, don't do that. Poor Mary O'Neal will be 
glad of it to shelter her fatherless children. 

Darby. True for you, Judy; she's the woman I'll give it to. I 
promised Tim Lavey a whacking for sneaking about with the sol- 
diers. I'll go and lather him. (Going, r.) 

Judy (detaining him). No, no. Darby. Don't think of fight- 
ing now ! 

Darby. Well, I'd like to pay my debts, and leave the country 
with a good character. 

Judy. Come with me to the house. Darby, and I'll show you 
the hole in the chimney corner where I keeps my riches. 

Darby. Is that the bank, darling? 

Judy. Yes ; I knocked a stone out with the poker. 

Darby. Faith, Judy, you didn't go to school for nothing; it's 
yourself that got the learning. 



Robert Emmet 



27 



Judy. Yes ; and I have the knuckle end of a leg of mutton, 
and a sup of whiskey in the pantry for you, Darby. 

Darby. You have? Whiskey and mutton — take me with you, 
jewel. I'll pulverize one, and sink the other. Father McGmnison 
lives round the corner ; we'll hire him to transmogrify the pair of 
us into one. For by the rules of my relations we shall have a 
large creel of Darbys and Judys ; and I'd wish to be a good father 
and mother to them all ; so come along. Hurrah for America ! 
(EXIT with Judy, l.) 



SCENE II. — Interior of the New Session House, Dublin, 5 and 6 
groove. Large c. doors open, backed with interior, through 
which soldiers are seen; the jury arranged, r. u. e. ; the 
judges seated; Lord Norbury, Mr. Baron George, and Baron 
Daly on r. h. 2 e. ; Lord Norbury as presiding judge; Em- 
met, L. c, in prisoner's box, so placed that he faces the 
audience; Corporal and spectators arranged l. and back; 
constables with staffs, etc. 

Jury. Soldiers. 

Officer. Officer. 

Jury. Corporal. 

Sheriff. Officer. Spectators. 

Baron Daly. 

Sheriff. 
Norbury. Spectators. 

Baron George. i 1 

I Emmet. | 

I 1 Constables. 

Maria. 

R. L. 



Norbury {to jury). If you are satisfied of this man's guilt, you 
must discharge your duty to your king and to your country. I 
know the progress of every good mind begins with abhorrence 
for the crime, and ends with compassion for the criminal. Gen- 
tlemen of the jury, I shall not detain you long. You have 
already heard, on two occasions, the witnesses against him ; nor 
has one appeared in his favor ; and, if you believe the evidence — 
the criminal conduct of the prisoner — you, gentlemen of the jury, 
are bound to decide between the prisoner and justice due to your 
country, and, in that case, you should find him guilty. {Sits. 
Kernan whispers the jury. Norbury addresses jury.) Will 
you retire, or are your minds made up? 

Ker. We, the jury, find the prisoner guilty! 



28 Rotctt Emmet 

Maria (rising). No, no! Oh, merciful heaven! It cannot 
be ; it cannot be ! 

NoRBURY. Take her away. 

Emmet. My Lord — one moment. At least, let me say farewell 
to her whom I shall never see again until we meet in a land where 
the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. 

NoRBURY. Be brief, then. 

Emmet (embracing Maria). Be brave, true heart, and think 
that this parting is but a moment — that the sunshine of a happy 
eternity is before us. 

Maria. Oh ! Robert, Robert ! I cannot, I cannot. 

Emmet. For my sake, for your own. Live in the happy past, 
dear wife, and hope for a happy future. 

Maria (wildly). Oh, Robert — I cannot. My brain burns — 
I — I — (Faints.) 

Emmet. Farewell, farewell. (Kisses her.) It is best thus. 
(To soldiers.) Bear her gently hence. May God be merciful to 
her. (Maria is half led, half carried off r. by the soldiers.) 
Now, my lords, I am ready. 

Norbury. Prisoner, what have you to say why judgment 
of death should not be pronounced against you according to law? 

Emmet. My lords, I have nothing to say that can alter your 
predetermination ; but I have much to say why my reputation 
should be rescued from the load of false accusations and calumny 
which have been heaped upon it. I have no hope that I can 
anchor my character in the breast of a court constituted and tram- 
melled as this is. I only wish and it is the utmost I expect, that 
your lordships may suffer it to float down your memories, un- 
tainted by the foul breath of prejudice, until it finds some more 
hospitable harbor to shelter it from the storm by which it is at 
present buffeted — when my spirit shall be wafted to a more 
friendly port — when my shade shall have joined the band of those 
martyred heroes, who have shed their blood on the scaffold, and 
in the field, in defence of their country and of virtue — this is my 
hope. I wish that my memory and name may animate those who 
survive me, while I look down with complacency on the destruc- 
tion of that perfidious government which upholds its dominions 
by blasphemy of the Most High, which displays its power over 
man and over the beast of the forest — a government steeled to 
barbarity by the cries of the orphans and the tears of the widows 
which it has made ! 

Norbury. The mean and wicked enthusiasts who felt as you 
do were not equal to the accomplishments of their wild design I 

Emmet. I appeal to the Immaculate Maker — I swear by the 
throne of Heaven, before which I must shortly appear — by the 
blood of the murdered patriots who have gone before me, that my 



Robert Emmet 29 

conduct, through all this peril, has been governed only by the con- 
viction I have uttered; and I confidently and assuredly hope that 
there is still union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this 
noble enterprise ! 

NoRBURY. I do not sit here to hear treason ! 

Emmet. I have always understood that judges think it their 
duty to hear with patience and to speak with humanity. Where 
is the boasted freedom of your institutions — where is the vaunted 
impartiality, clemency, and mildness of your courts of justice, if 
an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not your justice, 
is about to deliver into the hands of the executioner, is not suf- 
fered to explain his motives sincerely and truly, and to vindicate 
the principles by which he was actuated? You, my lord, are a 
judge — I am the supposed culprit. — I am a man — you are a man 
also. By a revolution of power we might change places, though 
we never could change characters. If I stand at the bar of this 
court, and dare not vindicate my character, how dare you calum- 
niate it? Your executioner may abridge the period of my exist- 
ence ; but whilst I exist, I will make the best use of that life in 
doing justice to that reputation which is to live after me, and 
which is the only legacy I can leave to those I honor and love, and 
for whom I am proud to perish ! 

NoRBURY. Silence, and hear the sentence of the law. 

Emmet. My lords, will a dying man be denied this legal privi- 
lege? Why did your lordship insult me, or rather why insult jus- 
tice in demanding of me why sentence of death should not be pro- 
nounced against me? I know, my lord, that form prescribes that 
you should ask the question. — The form also implies the right of 
answering ; this, no doubt, may be dispensed with ; so might the 
whole ceremony of the trial, since sentence was already pro- 
nounced at the Castle before your jury was empanelled — but I 
insist on the whole of the forms ! 

NoRBURY. Go on, sir ! 

Emmet. It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence 
of my country. I am charged with being an emissary of France. 
I am no emissary ; my ambition was to hold a place among the 
deliverers of my country, not in power nor in profit, but in the 
glory of the achievements. Were the French to come as invaders 
or enemies, uninvited by the v/ishes of the people, I should oppose 
them to the utmost of my strength — I would meet them on the 
beach with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other — I 
would oppose them with all the destructive fury of war — I would 
dispute every inch of ground, burn every blade of grass before 
them, and the last intrenchment of liberty should be my grave. 
My country was my idol ; to it I sacrifice every selfish, every 
daring sentiment, and for it I now offer up my life. I see you 



30 Robert Emmet 

are impatient for the sacrifice. The blood you seek is not con- 
gealed by the artificial terrors which surround your victim; it 
circulates warmly and unrufiied through the channels which the 
mighty Maker created for nobler purposes, but which you are 
bent to destroy. I have but a few more words to say. I am 
going to my cold and silent home ; my lamp of life is nearly extin- 
guished ; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. 
I have one request to ask at my departure from this world 
— it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; 
for as no man knows my motives, nor dare now vindicate them, 
let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me 
repose in peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed until other 
times and other men can do justice to my character, when my 
country takes her place among the nations of the earth ; then, 
and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done ! 

NoRBURY. I must perform the painful duty that devolves upon 
me. You have been convicted of treason. But let me exhort 
you not to depart this life with such sentiments of rooted hostility 
to your king ! 

Emmet (pointing upwards). My King is there! 

Tableau, Music, 

SLOW CURTAIN. 



NO REDCOATS, NO PRISON CELLS, NO EVICTIONS, m WURDERS 



SHAUN RROOM. 

A2r ibisb: dbama in 3 acts, by charljss townsenu. 

PRICE 25 CENTS, 

A brilliant Irish drama with a powerful plot and striking situations, full of bright 
Irish wit. Being wholly original in conception, it contains none of the threadbare 
Incidents so common to plays of this class ; but, instead, is a true pictuie of Irish 
home life with well drawn characters and life-like movement. Though devoid of ail 
sensational features, this play will command and hold the interest ot spectators 
from first to last. It has met with pronounced favor on thQ road, under its author'* 
management. Can be played in any hall. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

SHAUN AROON A roving fellow, with a light purse and a lighter hearU 

LORD FER.MOY (disguised as "BAD ANDY ") A goodhearted landlord, 

FERGUS RIORDAN iermoy^s rascally agent, 

DAN O'GRADY , A sturdy old faitner. 

OLD HENNINGS A moneylender. 

NIPPER A detective. 

PATRICK Asei-vant, 

MRS. O'GRADY.... Dan's wife. 

MOLLYo His daughter. 

OiAGGIB A maid-servant. 

Time, the present. Scene, Lord Fermoy's Estate. Time of playing, 234 hours. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I.— Parlor In the '* King's Arms " hotel— The old farmer and the scheming 
agent— The Plot— Shaun and "Bad Andy "—Fergus is surprised— " Lave me choke 
him a bit !"— Shaun's suspicions— Molly and Maggie— A bit of blarney— Molly niakei 
ft discovery— Fergus surprised again— "Are you hurt ?"— Fergus makes a proposal— 
JPhe answer—" I've a mind to strike you !"— Shaun on hand— His answer. 

Act II.— Sitting-room at O'Qrady's— A lapse of six months— Mother and daughter 
—Molly's reason— Dan's sorrow— "God bless you, my colleen !"— The alarm— Fergus 
learns a secret— The money-lender— Fergus' threat— Shaun and Maggie— A rumpus- 
Molly decides— Shaun's advice— The arrest— "Stand back, or I'll brain ye .'"—Tableau. 

Act III.— At Fermoy castle— A lapse of two hours— Pat in clover— Maggie seeks 
Information— A muscular maiden— Hennings gets mad— Bad Andy learns something 
—The attempted whipping— "Dance, or I'll cut ye into fiddle strings !"— The letter— 
The arrest of Shaun and Bad Andy— Tom's promise— The examination— Hennings 
gets even— "Who are you ?"— "Fermoy of Fermoy Castle 1"— Fergus weakens— The 
confession— Shaun's invitation— Happy ending. 

•* It was presented at the Library last night, and attracted one of the largest audi- 
ences of the season. Shaun captured the house at the start and kept it in good 
humor all through the performance ; and Molly merited the hearty applause fre- 
quently given her. The other characters all did their share toward making the 
«lrama the emphatic success that ;t was." HAVERHILL (Mass.) Newspaper. 

** Shaun Aroon was very successful, and gave universal satisfaction. We are re- 
quested to produce it again." THOMAS QUINN, (Penn.) 

" It seems to me a play peculiarly adapted to a small stage with few changes of 
scenery. We played it to a crowded house and met with unqualified success im 
every way.»' T. C. MAHER, (Mass.) 

" 8HAUN Aroon was produced in the Town Hall to the largest audience ever brought 
together here. The play was enthusiastically received, and the applause was dear 
ening at times. We had a warmer reception than many professionals would 
receive." RICHARD G. KELLY, (N. Y.) 

•• The play was produced for the benefit of a churoli iu this place, and we had a 
crowded hall." FRED E. LANEN, (Mass.) 

"Our Society produced Shaun Aroon at the Opera House, and met with universal 
approbation. No Irish play we have yet had showed so much real action, spirit and 
wit as did this one." THOMAS C. MOORE, D. D., (Kans.) 

'* Grand Opera House was completely packed by a large and appreciative audience 
tast evening, to witness the production of a romantic Irish drama, Shaun Aroon. It 
is something out of the usual run of Irish productions, inasmuch as it has nothing to 
say of English oppression and tyranny, but is a simple tale of country life in the 
ftnerald Isle. The total receipts will not fall much snort of $750, of which over $606 
will be clear." STILLWATER (Minn.) Gazkttk. 

The play was well presented and evoked hearty applause. Fully 200 people were 
" ' o gain admittance. JERSEY CITY (N. J. ) JouRifAL. 

fT Copies mailed, postpaid, to any addre»3 on receipt of the price. «J9 ^ 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

i8 Ann Street, New York. 



^m^mmm 



THE JAIL BIRD 

j4 Drama in 5 Ads, by Charles Townsend. 



Price, 25 Cents, 



fe 



A new play from the pen of Charles Townsend arouses more than 
ordinary interest among dramatic clubs, and THE JAIL BIRD, a 
play representing city iife, will be found not the least important 
contribution of this talented writer to the stock of modern actiug 
dramas. The plot resembles that ot "The Ticket of Leave Man," 
but this play is far easier to produce, inasmuch as there are no diffi- 
cult scenes or properties to handle. It is new in treatment, up to the 
times, and has proved exceedingly popular on the road during the 
past three seasons— managers reporting it *• a big winner." All of 
the characters provide scope for effective acting, the interest is con- 
tinuous, and the comedy portions are warranted to create boisterous 
mirth. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Matthew Morgan, from ♦'up In York State," 

who has come to the great city to seek 

his fortune Leading Juvenile man 

Bill Donovan, aiias "Jenkins,'* alias "the 

Parson ". Character heavy 

Darby Jones, a New York detective Low comedy 

Solomon Isaacs, aJewish "crook" Character comedy 

Mr. Denham, a wealthy stock broker Walking gentleman 

Joe, a workman Utility 

Bob Wilkins, a street urchin Soubrette 

Jennie Foster, afterward Matt's wife Leading emotional lady 

Mrs. Babbleton, whose tongue never tires Old woman comedy 

Time, the present. Place, New York City. Time of playing, two 
hours and a half. 



SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

ACT 1.— Place, a room in Isaacs' concert hall on Sixth avenue, New 
York.— The detective and the crook.— A profitable deal.— Donovan 
and Isaacs compare notes.— The counterfeit money.— Matt and Dono- 
van.— "Seeing Life."— Bitter memories. — Jennie. — Homeless and 
friendless.— The insult.— The Jew learns a lesson.— Arrested. 

ACT 2 —Time, two years later.— Place, Jennie Foster's rooms in 
Mrs. Babbleton's lodging house.— Matt's letter.— Mrs. Babbleton 
makes a few remarks.— Matt's arrival.— Prison experience.— Bob 
"blows in."— A specimen of the New York "kid."— Matt refunds the 
money.— Denham, the broker.— Sunshine ahead. 

ACT 3.— A lapse of six months.— Place, ante-room in Denham's 
office.— Matt's advice.- Bright prospects.— Mrs. Babbleton investi- 
gates.— Darby's discovery,— A good-hearted officer.- Donovan in hot 
water.— A cunning rascal.— Discharged. 

ACT 4.— Six months later.— Place, the concert hall again.— Planning 
a robbery.- The last chance.— Husband and wife.— Jennie's faith.— 
Bob on a "bender."— The swindlers.-Hunteddown.— Matt's despera- 
tion.—" I'm ready for anything.'*— Matt's cunning.— Foiled !— Striking 
tableau. 

ACT 5.— Half an hour later.— Place, Denham's office.— Darby 
speaks his mind.— Laying the train.- Matt asserts himself. — A thrill- 
ing struggle.— Victory I— Sunshine at last.— Finale. 

Copies will be mailed, postpaid, to any address on receipt of price. 
DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 



t « 






\«M 









(AT 25 CENTS EACH.) M. F. f 

Strong Drama with comic underplay; 4 acts; 



Dramas and Comedies 



Breaking HSs Bonds. 

2 hours .' 6 

The Jail Bird. Drama of city life, containing a vivid plot with well 

diversified interest ; 5 acts ; 2^ hours 6 

Golden Gulch ("The Government Scout"). Drama that combines 

fun, sentiment and exciting situations ; 3 acts ; 2% hours 11 

The Man from Maine. Comedy-drama with a wide-awake hero from 



'' down East " ; 5 acts ; 2% hours g 

Shaun Aroon. Stirring Drama of Home Life in Ireland; 3 acts; 2 

hours 7 

"The Deacon." Comedy-drama that is simply immense; old-man 

leading character ; 5 acts ; 2J4 hours 6 

What's Next? Farce-comedy; 3 acts ; plays 150 minutes; raises 150 

laughs 7 4 

The New Partner. Comedy-drama ; strong plot moving episodes and 

roaring comedy ; 3 acts ; zM hours 8 4 

Josiah's Courtship. Farcical Comedy-Drama; uproarious comedy 

features alternate with forceful, but not heavy, pathos ; 4 acts ; 

2 hours 7 4 

Etin Go Bragh. An up-to-date Irish Drama in 3 acts ; plays 2 hours ; 

both serious and comic in scope ; not sensational 5 4 

Plays for Female Characters Only 

(15 CENTS EACH.) M. F. 

Who's to Inherit? 1 act ; brisk and comic 9 

Mrs. Willi?' Will, i act ; neat, funny and bright 5 

My Aunt's heiress, i act ; has a " Cinderella " plot 11 

The ** Sweet" Family. Musical, wise and otherwise; will make a 

mummy laugh 8 

A Lesson in Elegance (" The Glass of Fashion "). Society comedy ; 

I act 4 

Murder Will Out. i act ; humorous, with a moral 6 

A Slight Mistake. 1 act ; enforces a moral in a comic way 5 

Fast Friends, i act ; society quarrel and reconciliation 2 

A Fair Encounter, x act ; bright, with a diamond-cut-diamond plot.. 3 






Plays for Male Characters Only 

(15 CENTS EACH.) ^ ^ M. F. 

The Lost Heir. Drama in 3 acts ; excellent plot of unflagging interest. 10 

** Medica." Roaring farce in 1 act ; sure to please 7 

Wanted, A Confldentjal Clerk. Farce in i act; comic and spirited... 6 

Old Cronies. Farce in i act ; rollicking fun all through 2 

April Fools. Farce in i act ; brisk, bright and comic 3 

The Darkey Wood Dealer. Farce in i act; always scores a success... 3 

Mischievous Bob. Comic drama in i act ; good moral 6 

The Wrong Bottle. Temperance sketch in i act 2 

Well Fixedf for a Rainy Day. Temperance Drama in i act 5 

The Harvest Storm. Drama in i act ; strong in its interest, with a 

comic underplot 10 

Furnished Apartments. Farce in i act ; very laughable in its absurd 

complications 5 

The Widow's Proposals. A *' Widow Bedott " farce in i act 3 

A Manager's Trials. Farce in 1 act ; creates shouts of laughter 9 

The Bachelor's Bedroom (" Two in the Morning "). Farce in i act ... 2 

The Dutchman in Ireland. Farce in 1 act; good characters 3 

The Nigger Night School. Farce in 1 act; a "screamer" with 

specialties 6 

A Holy Terror.^ Farce in i act; white or black faces; specialties can 

be worked in ; uproariously funny 4 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, i8 Ann St., N. Y* 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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99 



TOWNSEND'S 

••AflATEUR THEATRICALS. 

A Practical Guide for Ajnateur Actors^ 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. • 

This work, without a rival in the field of dramatic literature, covers the en 5 
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even old stagers will consult it with advantage. 

HELMER'S 

ACTOR'S MAKE=UP BOOK. 

A Practical and Systemaiic Guide to the Art of Making-u^Jbr tks Stage, 

PRICE, 25 CENTS. 

Facial make-up has much to do with an actor's success.Thls manual is a perfect 
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, CONTENTS. 

I Chapter I. Theatrical Wigs.— The Style and Form of Theatrical Wigs and 

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I Measuring the Head. To put on a Wig properly. # 

I Chapter II. Theatrical Beards.— How to fashion a Beard out of Crepe Hair, i) 

How to make Beards of WooL The growth of Beard simulated. Z 

Chapter III. The Make-up.— A successful Character Mask, and how to make Z 

' it. Perspiration during performance, how removed. W 

I Chapter IV. The Make-up Box.— Grease Paints. Grease Paints In Sticks; Flesh g 

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Chapter V, The Features and their Treatment.— The Eyes : Blindness. The 
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the appearance of the eyes. The Ears. The Nose : A Roman nose; How to use 
the nose putty; a pug nose; an African nose; a large nose apparently reduced In 
size. The Mouth and Lips : a juvenile mouth; an old mouth; a sensuous mouth; 
a satirical mouth; a one-sided mouth: a merry mouth; a sullen mouth. The 
Teeth. The Neck, Arms, Hands and Finger-nails: Finger-nails lengthened. 
Wrinkles: Friendliness and SuUenness indicated by wrinkles. Shading. A 
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Chapter VI. Typical Character Masks.— The Make up for Youth; Dimpled 
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Chapter VIL Spboial Hints to Ladies.— The Make-ui>. Theatrical Wigs and 
Hair Goods. 

^^^CopUt 9/ the ahovo will he mailed^ post-f^id^ U mny euUress^ 0m 
roceifi of tht anmexed priest, ^ 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, i8 Ann St,, N, Y. 








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